


The Shiba's Heart

by FeelingFredly



Category: Bleach
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 06:33:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingFredly/pseuds/FeelingFredly
Summary: The battles are over for now, but there are still some things that Ichigo knows must be protected.  The Shiba's Heart is one of them.Now to convince Kisuke...





	The Shiba's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Scars

Ichigo’s hands trembled a little as he unrolled the scroll. It should work. It  _ should _ . For once he hadn’t rushed into something he didn’t understand. He’d actually taken the original Shiba artifacts to Tessai and they’d spent the better part of three months dismantling the kidō to get a more complete grasp of what the spell’s boundaries were, but in the end it was something only a Shiba could cast, and unfortunately  _ this _ Shiba couldn’t hadō his way out of a paper bag without blowing something up in the process.

And blow things up he had.  The first time he’d tried the casting he’d shattered every window in his apartment—that had been difficult to explain. He’d given up on Seireitei when several of the Gotei’s seated officers had come screaming over the wall into the practice ground, swords drawn, because they’d felt Ichigo’s explosive reiatsu blast and had assumed the worst. He’d convinced his friends he was just trying to improve his skills, but not before Rukia and Shinji had gotten a little too interested for comfort.

After that, he’d relocated to an isolated area in the Rukongai.

He’d had to confide the details of his efforts to Hanatarō. Still, his hands were covered in burn scars, each one shaped like a tiny  _ Tsuiten no Kuzure Uzushio _ .  Every time the spell misfired it left new ones, and nothing seemed to help them, even though Hanatarō had wrapped his hands with bandages soaked in every potion he’d had access to, and a few that he’d had to sneak out from under Isane’s watchful eye. Tessai theorized that the scars were tied to the kidō in such a way that they would continue to appear until he successfully cast it, but they wouldn’t know for sure until he mastered it.

If he mastered it.

Ichigo drew in a steadying breath. He couldn’t think like that. He’d drawn the charts a hundred times.  He’d practiced the sub-vocalizations. He’d walked through the casting fifty times  _ just this morning _ . It was now or never. He rerolled the scroll, carefully tucked it away, and opened the shōten door.

The shōten was quiet and smelled like chocolates and gummy candy, camphor, and sandalwood incense, the old building having developed a personality of its own over the years that it had been owned by one humble young shopkeeper. Ichigo marveled a little at how quickly the place had become a second home to him, but considering everything that had happened, it had probably been a foregone conclusion from the moment he first stepped through the door with Rukia.

“Hello Ichigo-san.” Ururu popped up from behind one of the shelves and Ichigo jumped a little at her greeting, causing her to frown.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Ichigo smiled sheepishly. Ururu was as gentle as his sister Yuzu, and he hated upsetting her.  “I was lost deep in my own thoughts. Don’t worry about it. Are you watching the store by yourself today?”

She smiled at the implied compliment that she was trustworthy enough to be on her own but shook her head. “No. Tessai-san is in the storeroom with Jinta sorting out a new shipment, and Urahara-san is in the kitchen, I think.  He said something about wanting tea, but that was hours ago. Would you like me to call him for you?”

Ichigo refused. “No, I know the way.  I’ll just show myself back, okay?”

He turned towards the dark hallway that connected the store with the living quarters without waiting for an answer and felt his breath hitch again. He could do this.  He needed to do this.

“Kisuke?” he called. “You back here?”

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun,” the answer came from further down the hall, and Ichigo headed for one of the smaller of Kisuke’s labs.  Tea must have given way to something else. “What a pleasant surprise! I didn’t expect to see you today.”

Kisuke was standing by an old-fashioned chalk board covered in what looked like a nightmare mashup of calculus and alchemy. But he looked rested, and his jinbei was only minimally wrinkled, so whatever had triggered this bout of research, it hadn’t dragged him into the unhealthy depths of distraction yet.

“What’s all this?” Ichigo waved a hand at the board. “Anything I need to worry about?”

Gray eyes followed the motion and a tiny frown line appeared between them.  “Not especially, Kurosaki-kun. Well, not unless you’d be worried about a potential way to recreate the slowed time passage in the Dangai without the dangers of…  well, the Dangai.”

Ichigo froze, mouth half open, trying to find something to say about the potential catastrophes he could see along that path of experimentation, but Kisuke solved that problem for him.

“What happened to your hands?” The piece of chalk he was holding clacked as it dropped into the tray at the bottom of the board, and his graceful fingers reached out and grabbed one of the hands in question.

In the stark light of the lab, the reddish swirls were more noticeable than usual, and Kisuke, being Kisuke, noticed everything anyway.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.” Ichigo tried to pull his hand away gently, but unless he wanted it to turn into a tug of war, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Why haven’t you had these tended to?  I’m sure that your father would have been happy to…”

Ichigo tugged again ineffectually at his hand.  “C’mon Kisuke, let go. They’re nothing. Really.”

“Nothing?” Kisuke turned the hand palm down and pushed the sleeve of his sweatshirt a little higher, exposing even more of the little swirls. “These look like the symbol of the Shiba clan.  I doubt that’s  _ insignificant _ , Kurosaki-kun.”

Ichigo sighed.  This wasn’t going at all like he’d planned.  Then again, this was Kisuke he was dealing with.  When did anything go to plan when he was involved?

“Okay, okay,  _ yes _ ,” he finally extricated his hand from Kisuke’s. “I’ve been working on something for a while now, and these marks seem to be a side-effect from it.  I’ve had them looked at—Tessai and Hanatarō both treated them—but whatever they are, they seem to be sticking around for now.”

Kisuke took a half-step back.  “Tessai-san has seen them?”

Nothing changed in his face, but Ichigo knew him rather well.  “Yes, and yes I asked him not to tell you so don’t be upset with him.  I didn’t want you to worry. Things have been so hectic lately with you traveling back and forth from here to Seireitei to help with all the rebuilding, and I know that Shunsui has been giving you extra projects to work on since he doesn’t want to let Kurotsuchi loose on the land of the living.  This,” he waved his scarred hands gently, “didn’t even register on the importance scale.”

The only indicator that Kisuke didn’t agree was a minute tightening of lips that disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

“So, Tessai-san is helping you with a project?” Kisuke reached into his sleeve and pulled out his fan, reaching up with it to tilt his hat back a fraction. “I wondered what you two had your heads together over these past few months, but I assumed he was giving you nostrums for your aches and pains, or advice on your love life.  Possibly even kidō lessons, but Tessai-san wouldn’t know anything about Shiba spells. Only clan heads have access to those materials, and last I knew his ties were to the Shihōin, not the Shiba.”

Kisuke always insisted on making things so complicated.

“You’re going to make me explain all of it, aren’t you?” Ichigo grumbled, beginning to wonder if this whole thing was just a terrible mistake.

But then he looked at the man in front of him, silvering scars sitting in contrast to his breezy façade, but with the faintest trace of insecurity under it all, and his doubts faded away again.

“You know Isshin renounced his position as clan head, right?” Ichigo had practiced this part, and Kisuke was agreeable enough to just nod and hum. “Well, that sort of left me and Kukaku holding the bag, as it were.  So, I spent a few nights in the Shiba compound with her and Ganju and they gave me a crash course on the whole clan thing, and the Shiba clan situation in particular.”

“I hate to admit it, but after that I almost felt sorry for Byakuya.  If the Shiba’s have as many rules and restrictions as  _ they _ do, I can’t imagine what the Kuchiki Clan Handbook for Dummies looks like.”

He didn’t explain that after talking to Kukaku, he’d almost immediately gone to talk to the Kuchiki Clan Head for advice.  He figured he’d save that information for later.

Much later.

“I suppose this _ is _ all leading somewhere, Kurosaki-kun?” Kisuke waved his fan, and Ichigo gave a graceless snort of a laugh.

“Well, it led me away from the whole clan business, for one thing, but after a while I couldn’t stop thinking about something Kukaku showed me.”

The interest was back in the gray eyes. “And what was that?”

Ichigo reached into the messenger bag by his side and pulled out the scroll.

“You remember how Kaien died trying to save Miyako?” The question came out thickly, but at least it came out.  In a few of his practice runs his tongue refused to even pretend to work.

Kisuke nodded briefly. 

“And my dad…  Goatface would have done the same for my mom.” Ichigo cleared his throat and tried to smile.  “It seems to be a Shiba thing, the whole  _ give your heart entirely _ mentality. They even have a special kidō designed by the great great great grand something clan elders that allows a clan head to imbue someone with the power of the Shiba clan.  It allows them to draw reiatsu to defend themselves or others, or just to do whatever they need to.”

Ichigo held the scroll out, his motions jerky, but determined.

“I know you don’t need it.  You’re the strongest, most capable man I know.  But I’ve given it a lot of thought and I would like to cast the Shiba kidō on you.  I want…” he rushed through the next part, “I  _ need _ you to be safe.  This would help keep you that way.”

Kisuke took the scroll from Ichigo’s shaky grip and unrolled it. It was covered in diagrams and kidō maps, spell chants, and across the top the name of the spell,  _ Shiba No Kokoro _ , the Shiba’s Heart.

“Ichigo,” he started, immediately ready to argue, but Ichigo was prepared for that.

“You don’t have to do  _ anything _ .  This is just…  a gift. An extra weapon that no one can take away from you.  Please, Kisuke.” His eyes were bright, and he could feel the heat burning in his cheeks. “Let me do this.”

Kisuke stood there staring at the scroll in his hand, his face carefully blank, for what seemed like forever.

“Just tell me one thing,” he said, not looking up.

Ichigo sucked in a breath.  He knew Kisuke. Knew this was coming.  It was a high cost, but if it convinced him, it would be worth it.

“Sure.” He aimed for Kisuke’s own breezy tone but fell sadly short. “What do you want to know?”

Kisuke rolled the scroll up carefully and finally met his gaze. “Why?”

A thousand answers spooled through Ichigo’s mind, each one more complicated and hedging than the last, but Kisuke deserved the truth.

“When Kukaku told me about the kidō I asked her why she hadn’t used it.  I mean, she was clan head. It was hers by right, so why not?” He stared off a little, remembering. “She said that the only person she’d ever been terrified of losing had died before she became clan head. Had died and  _ made _ her clan head.  After that, she didn’t believe she could ever separate her feelings over losing Kaien from the spell, so it wouldn’t work for her.”

Brown eyes searched gray.

“When she said that about being terrified of losing someone, well… you were the person I thought of.  Not my sisters—plus, now that Dad has his Shinigami powers back he can look after them. Not Inoue, or Chad, or Ishida…  we’ve gotten past the battles that involve the human world, and they’re much safer. But you? Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night terrified that everything I was afraid of had actually happened. Benihime failed, and you didn’t make it out that day, and  _ somehow _ I had to go on without you.  I worry about the enemies we’ve collected over the years, that we’ve missed something or someone and when they attack you, you won’t be prepared with one of your thousand and one plans.  If this kidō can give you an edge, something that only you and I—and Tessai, but I don’t think we have to worry about him telling anyone—know about, then I want to try to do it.”

Ichigo was running out of steam, and the hardest part was still to come.

“I know I suck at kidō, but I’ve been practicing this for months now.  All I need is your permission, your acceptance of the gift. I don’t expect you to feel the same way I do.” He tried to sound light. “I mean, you’re not a crazy Shiba whose heart doesn’t know what’s good for it.”

Kisuke frowned and Ichigo worried he’d messed up somehow.

“I’m not saying you’re not good for my heart,” he tried again, stumbling over his own words. “You’re the only thing that makes my heart beat faster, the only thing it even recognizes. Without you, my heart might as well fade away.  That’s why I know this will work.”

He looked down at the scroll in Kisuke’s hands and firmed his jaw. “It  _ has to _ work.”

The blond just stared at him. Not like Kurotsuchi, thank goodness, more like when Yuzu was reading cookbooks and trying to imagine exactly what a new recipe was going to be like. A little bit of confusion, a little concentrated analysis, and a heaping helping of  _ oh my, what is that? _

Well, it was better than,  _ What the fuck are you thinking, Kurosaki? _

“You realize,” Kisuke said, unusually seriously, “if you do this, you will never be able to perform this kidō again.  It is a once in a lifetime chance.”

Ichigo nodded, equally seriously. “That’s right. But it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters!” Kisuke snapped, and Ichigo’s eyes widened.  He hadn’t seen this kind of reaction in a long time. “You’re offering me unlimited access to the power of the Shiba!  To  _ your _ power.  Of which, honestly, you have an obscene amount.  Do you have any idea how dangerous this could make me?  I could level Seireitei. I could become another Aizen. I could…”

Ichigo stepped forward, grasped Kisuke’s wrists and shook him.  “No,” he said quietly. “You couldn’t.”

They stood like that for a long moment, breath mingling, and Ichigo could feel the pulse hammering at his throat.  The scars on his hands were livid next to the paleness of Kisuke’s skin, and this close he could see the ragged stitches on his face that had finally begun to fade along the edges of Benihime’s handiwork. Then he saw what he needed to see: there, at the base of that long white throat, a ragged butterfly pulse echoed his own.

He pulled the taller man closer and rested his forehead against Kisuke’s captive hands.

“Please, Kisuke. For me.”

The wrists he’d been holding twisted loose, and he felt himself pulled up tightly against Kisuke’s muscular frame.  _ Had he pushed things too far? _

“Anything for you.” Kisuke’s eyes glittered down at him, and he couldn’t believe his ears.

“What?”  _ Please say it again. Please say it again. _ The words rattled through his head, a pipe dream and a prayer.

“I said,” Kisuke leaned in and ghosted his lips across Ichigo’s in the lightest of kisses, “ _ anything _ for you.”

Ichigo breathed in chalk dust and ink and sandalwood and  _ Kisuke _ and heard a rushing in his ears.  The taste and the scent and the warmth of him swamped his senses in a way that nothing, not reiatsu, not sake,  _ nothing _ ever had.

Kisuke kissed him softly again, their mouths fitting together so perfectly that he trembled. He tasted the heat of him, was drowning in him, and when the taller man pulled back, Ichigo almost lost his balance and toppled into his arms.

Gray eyes had turned to molten silver, and Ichigo groaned, breathless and dizzy and aching for more.

“I told Kukaku you could never feel like this,” he said when he found his voice. “She understood that it didn’t matter.  That I wanted whatever you could give. But this?” He stared up at Kisuke. “This is like a dream.”

The blond pulled away slightly and sighed. “You have zero sense of self-preservation.” He dropped a fluttering kiss on Ichigo’s brow. “Do you have any idea vulnerable you’re leaving yourself? A dream?  I just hope you don’t wake up one day and feel like it has become a nightmare.”

Ichigo let out a quiet growl and pulled Kisuke in tight again. “I may not have as much experience as you do, but I am no fool. I know what I want. I know what I  _ need _ . The rest is just details, and now we have all the time in the world to iron those out.”

He held Kisuke’s eyes, the blond looking almost as dazed as he felt, but he wasn’t uncertain about anything anymore.  He knew what Kisuke was afraid of. He just didn’t care.

Everything that had been jumbled in his head and heart had fallen into place, and the months he’d spent agonizing over spell casting and graphs and maps simply disappeared.

“My right hand is open. 22 red bridges are crossed at sunrise. 36 carnations bloom.  The plum blossom falls in the Heavenly Wind.”

He placed his hand over Kisuke’s heart, matching his breathing to the rhythm he found there.

“Fate of the three sparrows, open the gate of the Dragon’s tail and swim the crashing whirlpool! The Heart beats. Stand still and yet move forward. Bind the Light into one and carry it on the wind to the Crashing Heaven!”

Reiatsu flooded the space around them, the waves a torrent, but Ichigo was smiling.  Nothing exploded. His hand, where it rested over Kisuke’s heart, was thrumming in time with the waves of energy and their joined heartbeats. Suddenly the tiny scars that had peppered his skin began to glow with the palest golden light.  Brighter and brighter they shone, until he was almost forced to close his eyes or be blinded. At that moment, though, the marks began to  _ move _ .  They danced and slid over his fingers, the golden glow coalescing into one concentrated point, until it transferred to the smooth skin of Kisuke’s chest and then… disappeared.

“Did it work?” He lifted his hand and there, pale and perfect, was a single  _ Tsuiten no Kuzure Uzushio. _

“I believe it did.” There was wonder in Kisuke’s voice, and Ichigo beamed with pride.

He looked at his hands.  All of his tiny scars had disappeared. “They’re gone.”

Kisuke rubbed at the new scar above his left nipple. “Not entirely.  I could feel it tingling as they moved. They’re all right here.”

Ichigo leaned forward impulsively and pressed a kiss against it.

“Can you feel anything else?”

Kisuke was a master of reiatsu manipulation, so Ichigo didn’t expect much of a learning curve, he wasn’t, however, prepared for the whole-body shudder that wracked him as his reiatsu was viciously yanked through him.

“Shit,” he said, bracing his hands on Kisuke’s chest. “I felt _ that _ .”

“Did it feel good?” Kisuke’s voice dropped and there was another, gentler, pulsing pull on his reiatsu. Ichigo moaned, his cock twitching with each wave as it passed.

“So good,” he panted out the words and Kisuke grinned like a kid in a candy shop.

“This is going to be fun to play with,” he said.

Ichigo frowned in concentration and tugged his reiatsu back a little, chuckling darkly as Kisuke’s eyes shot open wide.  _ Fun indeed. _

“Who would ever have guessed it would turn out like this,” he said, reaching up to kiss the man he loved, reveling in the newfound bond between them and the knowledge that this was only the beginning of their adventure. “I expected to be giving  _ you _ a gift and instead I’ve gotten everything I could ever want.”

He traced the whirlpool scar with his fingertip and smiled. A gift that would keep on giving.


End file.
